Coming of Age
by ZheM
Summary: AU after HBP A Coming of Age gift from the Dark Lord was completely unexpected. But it may be the gift from his Mother that changes Draco's life.


For Draco's 30th, a reminder of his 17th.

* * *

Birthday Surprises  
(June 5)

The steady drip of water echoed up to him from somewhere within the underground miles of the Malfoy dungeons and catacombs. The damp smell of earth cloistered around him as Draco descended deeper beneath the manor. It was very dark down here; even with the light his wand provided as the youngest Malfoy repeatedly cast _Lumos_.

Things shifted beneath his feet but Draco refused to look down and find out what they were. He was down here for a reason and needed to find it quickly. The Dark Lord wasn't known for his patience. 

~~~ _He'd found the first one completely by accident. On his father's orders, Draco had taken to popping out of dark corners and frightening the house-elves. Dobby in particular. And as the years went by he had gotten cleverer about his hiding places. _

_So the bright sparkle emanating from that day's chosen spot grabbed his attention quickly. He'd been taught that one never took what wasn't his own, but at almost six years old Draco knew that his parents really meant that you never did it while anyone else might be watching._

_His small hand stroked over the bright wrapping paper, carefully pulling it closer to where he'd crouched in one of the manor's many hidden passages. Grey eyes moved quickly over its surface, searching for any identification. _

_In a small, unobstructing corner of the paper, his mother's elegant hand had written 'To my little dragon'. And then, smaller and slightly cramped as though added as an afterthought, she had finished it 'Love Mummy.'_

_With no one there to deny him, Draco tore into the paper with relish, decorum non-existent in the dark corridor. A plain wooden box opened easily to reveal a crisp sheet of parchment resting above a shriveled right hand. Disgust mingled with curiosity as he reached for the parchment, unsurprised to find his mother's writing continued. A Hand of Glory. His very own. No more trying to steal his father's._

_Draco looked about himself, eyes accustomed after hours wandering the dark places of the manor. _

_'May it be a light for you when all others have gone out.'*_

_She had known he would need it in here. _~~~ 

Draco found himself wishing he still had that first Hand of Glory as he began his descent down a third set of stairs. The subsequent ones had never worked as well or as long as it had. He had no idea how deep in the Earth he actually was and longed for the steady glow that would not fade the way a _Lumos_ did when it needed recast. Those few seconds of complete darkness were unlike any he had ever known.

In the stillness of the dark, the earthen walls seemed to breathe around him. Centuries of magic brought life to the very grounds.

~~~ _The Hand of Glory had been only the first that he had found that day and in the weeks leading up to his sixth birthday. After that it became a game he and his parents played. Presents and the like hidden throughout the manor. And for each one he found before his birthday they would buy him another on the day of. _

_Ten years of finding presents. Ten years of practice sneaking in the dark. Ten years and only one present still undiscovered. And it had all seemed to lead him here ._~~~

"Only one hint, young Draco. Your gift is in the dungeons." In the dungeons. It seemed to reverberate in his head as he moved steadily deeper with no knowledge of when the dungeons would end and he would be lost within the catacombs forever. More than one distant Malfoy had gone that way.

He'd never been down this far, even in his yearly searches of the manor. Draco had thought there was some unspoken rule that even though he was the heir, he had no place in these caverns. Not for another few years at any rate.

His heartbeat seemed to echo back to him, loud even over the sound of his half-afraid deep breaths. Who could possibly know what the Dark Lord might have hidden here for him.

The ground gradually began to level out beneath his feet, the faint glow of a flickering torch appearing as suddenly as he looked.

Draco glanced around carefully, extinguishing his wand with a whispered "_Nox._"

It was so quiet down here. Even the echo of water had disappeared. Only the faint scuffle of rats accompanied the occasional crackle from the blazing torch.

He stepped forward again, the encroaching darkness leaving him hungry for the burning light ahead.

For just a moment, staring slightly behind the warm glow, Draco wished that that light might never dim. 

~~~ _Lamp light illuminated the passage, carefully arranged to lead him out of the dark. It was his mother's doing. It was she who made certain he could find his way again._

_Every hidden corridor in the manor had a lamp placed at its exit, so that if he should ever become lost or disoriented he need only look for the light. It would lead him back to her. _~~~ 

The scuff of bare skin on hard stone drew his attention. Draco's hand tightened around the supple wood or his wand, fully certain that this would be the Dark Lord's gift to him.

Ragged breaths reached his ears now, and other sounds he had overlooked in his contemplation of the torchlight.

He closed his eyes briefly, familiar terror of the Dark Lord's machinations settling heavily in his chest. One last gift. Now or never. 

~~~ _The chime above the door carried all the way back to the footstool where Draco waited for Madam Malkin's assistant to finish measuring and pinning his new robes. That worthy had turned from supervising the process to greet the newcomer with a smile. Dark unruly hair fell into the eyes of a boy much his own age, baggy misshapen clothes hung off of his small frame, and then, just for a second, a flash of the brightest green eyes Draco had ever seen. _~~~ 

The light from the torch illuminated pale skin while casting more details into shadow. Dark hair stood up in odd tufts, held in place as much from memory as from the dirt and grime Draco was certain coated the strands. Ragged clothes swallowed a body he knew hadn't always been so skinny, muscles honed by Quidditch no longer defined. And then green eyes closing in pain against the brightness of the torch on the wall.

"Potter?" 

~~~ _His chest ached from the force of his fall, his mind troubled by the memory of those few seconds when he had been sure he was going to die. The first time he could remember riding a broom he was five and had received an hour long lecture on taking proper care while flying. It had been seven years and Draco could still hear his father saying he must take care; he was a Malfoy and therefore couldn't be killed in a Quidditch accident._

_And his father had been there today, sitting in the stands to observe his first game. And thanks to Saint Potter he had ended up in the hospital wing. After this he would be lucky if he ever got to play again. _~~~ 

"Potter, what the hell are you doing here?" He stepped closer to where the other boy had been placed, kneeling beside his slumped form.

Potter tensed as Draco reached toward him with his left hand, his right still holding his hawthorn wand ready. The brunette shook his head, leaning away as much as he could, clearly not wanting to be touched. 

~~~ _He held his hand out calmly, insides squirming with the excitement of his first offer of friendship to someone not previously approved of by his mother and father. But the other boy didn't move to return the gesture and a strange sinking feeling followed his rising disappointment. Draco sneered. He probably didn't want to be this boy's friend after all. _~~~ 

Draco lowered his hand, not sure he wanted to touch the other boy even if he might have allowed it.

"I should leave you here, trapped until he comes for you."

Green eyes glared at him, promising untold pain if Draco chose to leave him to die in the dark.

The blond sneered, giving a short mocking laugh. "Too late, Potter. You've already tried that tack." 

~~~ _The cold metal of the sink numbed his hands under the pressure of his grip on the rim. Icy water pounded in to the basin, splashing to soak through the thin material of his dress shirt. The frigidness contrasted disgustingly with the hotness of the tears he couldn't seem to contain. The noise of it all couldn't seem to block out Moaning Myrtle's attempts at soothing words and Draco couldn't swallow past his heart well enough to tell her to leave him be._

_A small flick of movement drew his eyes to the dirty surface of the cracked mirror. _~~~ 

"I would like to have thought you might learn from your mistakes. But it seems not."

He looked over his one-time rival's huddled form. "It appears they left you in one piece at least." Draco ran his left hand through his hair, eyes never leaving Potter's restrained form. "Now how the fuck have you managed to get yourself captured?"

Potter simply shook his head; eyes glaring balefully back at Draco.

"Can you move? Can you speak at least?"

The brunette shook his head again, shifting restlessly against the stone below him. Draco winced as obviously tender skin dragged against the rough ground.

With a heavy sigh he pushed himself up, standing over the bound and vulnerable form of Harry Potter. And he knew exactly what it was that the Dark Lord required of him. 

~~~ _He'd thought he'd seen a flash of Potter's trainers as the Gryffindor climbed into the luggage rack. Looking down at his prone form Draco knew that that was exactly what he had seen in those few seconds of chaos._

_He'd half hoped he was wrong._

_He hadn't said anything too incriminating but a low profile was going to be his saving grace this year._

_But staring down at Potter's petrified figure awakened a rage he had experienced and forcefully quelled many times over the previous summer. And suddenly he couldn't resist. Besides, there was no one there to see his lapse in self-control._

_For his father locked away in Azkaban. And for his mother, trapped in the manor. For their lives and his own he had been set on this path. But that didn't mean he couldn't get something for himself out of it._

_The crunch of Potter's nose under his hand-tailored heel felt incredibly satisfying._

_"That's from my father."**_

_That's for me._ ~~~ 

"_Finite Incantatum_!"

Potter flopped bonelessly to the earthen floor, releasing a pained grunt followed by a healthy groan as his muscles began to relax.

Draco looked on in disgust. "Really, Potter, _Incarcerous_ isn't that bad."

Potter cast him a disparaging look. "You try being left for hours tied up and straining against rough ropes and a floor that feels like sandpaper without being able to make a sound to call for help."

Draco stared at him, trying to evoke an expression that communicated how much of an idiot he thought the Gryffindor really was. Didn't Saint Potter know to whom he was speaking? Death Eaters had perfected those spells on him.

"Never mind, Potter. Just never you mind." He watched as the brunette sat up slowly, white marks pressed into the skin that he could see from the pressure of the ropes. "You should just thank Merlin all you ended up with is a little rope burn."

Potter snorted indelicately. "What would you know of it, Malfoy?"

Draco shook his head. "More than a speccy Gryffindor git." 

~~~ _The photo in The Prophet showed her standing coldly at his side. But Draco knew how much it had cost her to maintain Malfoy stoicism in the flash of all those bulbs and the flurry of complicated questions that they could never have answered safely. Her hand had been shaking against his back as they waited for the end of only the first of their public humiliations._

_But the response of the Wizarding world had been nothing compared to the Dark Lord's rage over his father's failures. Harry Potter had escaped him again and the Malfoy family was to take the brunt of the fallout._

_Draco had spent days bound on the floor of one the upper levels of the manor dungeons. ~~~_

Potter was a ponce, he was sure of it. A few hours tied uncomfortably and he was whinging like a first year Hufflepuff distraught over a low Care of Magical Creatures score. _Git._

"Some brave Gryffindor you are, Potter. Now if you're done," he reached down to grasp the other boy by the shoulder. "Up you get."

"Don't touch me," the brunette groaned, lowering his head to rest on his knees and leaning away from Draco's proximity.

Draco frowned, the expression pinching the smooth skin of his brow. A nonverbal _Lumos_ flared as Draco's wand illuminated the space between them. He looked at Potter carefully in the stronger light. This close to the other boy Draco could see the vaguely reddish tint to his skin that stood out in stark contrast with the white marks of the rope.

_"Cruciatus_?"

The dark head nodded as his body shuddered.

"Yes, I remember that one well." Draco lowered his wand again, staring at Potter with a mixture of pity and disdain. "For the love of Merlin, Potter, do get up. It's not as if they treated you to the Killing Curse while they were at it." He looked closer at the dark fringe. "They didn't, did they? Because you are clearly alive, but I'd hate to have missed that." He glanced away dreamily. "You would have twitched. And screamed like a girl. And then shat yourself quite spectacularly."

Draco turned back to find the Gryffindor staring at him like he had suddenly turned in to a raving moron. Draco barely refrained from checking himself for that horrid Hufflepuff yellow. His eyes narrowed, glaring at the brunette.

Potter shifted under the heavy weight of his stare and something bright sparked in the light of Draco's wand. The intense expression faded quickly, overpowered easily by one of shocked surprise.

"Potter," he began slowly, for all intents and purposes as though he were talking to a wayward toddler. "What is that behind you?"

Confusion contorted bespectacled features as the other boy shifted around.

Draco watched as he picked up the brightly wrapped parcel. And then nearly beat the idiot Gryffindor to death with his wand when the git started shaking the package.

"You fool! Never shake something if you don't know what's inside of it! Especially if you find it in a Wizarding household." He looked closer at it. "Where the devil did it come from?"

"I don't know, Malfoy. It wasn't there the first time I woke up."

Draco looked at him skeptically. "Have you been _Obliviated_? Surely you didn't make it to sixteen this dense."

"Fuck off, Malfoy."

Draco took the package from him, looking it over in wonder. The wrapping was completely familiar though startlingly out of sorts with this environment. 

_~~~ The glow of his Hand of Glory led him through the perfect darkness of the Peruvian Powder. Harsh voices filled the halls on the seventh floor as Death Eaters made their way from the room of hidden things._

_While their intent was chaos, Draco's mission was much more straightforward. He only had to find Dumbledore. ~~~_

Draco's hand shook as he pulled apart the wrapping. Smooth wood passed under his fingertips and Draco felt a flash of his mother's appreciation for the substance. It was her favorite for his presents. He stroked it lightly, well aware of the eyes following his movements.

"Get on with it, Malfoy."

"Piss off," he whispered, the retort lacking the proper heat as he continued looking at the box in his lap. "This...this is the last. It's the one I couldn't find the year I got my letter. Why would she move it down here?"

"It's still a bit dusty. Maybe she rewrapped it."

Draco stared at him distrustfully.

"I couldn't have opened it," Potter protested, leaning away from Draco.

"No," he shook his head. "Bound or not. She spells them so that only I can open them."

"Then do it."

"And if it's a dagger to finish you with, what then? Will you be so eager?"

"It's not−Is it? She wouldn't—"

"Why do you think I was sent down here? The Dark Lord has given you to me as a gift. His well wish for my Coming of Age."

Potter sighed and shifted away from him again, drawing a condescending laugh from Draco.

"I would have left you bound."

"Coward."

"No. Slytherin."***

Draco glanced around them before picking up a decently sized rock. Potter watched carefully as he Transfigured it into a short blade Potions knife.

"What are you doing?"

"You wanted me to open it."

"But that's−"

"Blood magic."

"And only−"

"Dark wizards use it. Yes, I'm sure I've heard that somewhere before."

A spell like the one his mother had used to seal the boxed required only the barest trace of his blood to undo. Draco pierced the tip of his smallest fingers, smearing the welling drop across the hidden latch.

It sprang open easily, surprising Potter enough that he jumped backward.

Draco lifted the lid, allowing the flickering torchlight to illuminate its contents.

The same familiar cream parchment adorned with his mother's elegant script lay folded across the top. Draco opened the missive reverently.

**_ My Dragon, _**

**_This box contains the keys to your freedom, and my last gifts to you. The Hand of Glory is truly my last. I know how much the first meant to you. This one belonged to your father. May it guide you better, little dragon. You are now head of the Malfoy family; you will find that key here as well. Take the boy with you._**

**_ ~Mother_**

Draco stared down at the letter, not fully comprehending its meaning or import.

"What does it mean, Malfoy?"

Draco looked up at him, stunned disbelief slackening his jaw.

"Malfoy?"

"She's letting you go. And sending me with you." He swallowed heavily. "She's sending me away."

"Why would she do that?"

"She'd do anything. To protect me…" 

_~~~ The Dark Forest loomed murky and silent, none of the night sounds one might expect emanated from within its depths. It terrified Draco._

_"We can't go in there! There are werewolves!"  
_

_Her next letter contained admonishments for getting caught along with those Gryffindors and a few extras bars of the best Honeyduke's chocolate. His father's contribution was a tried-and-true charm for warding off werewolves. And the chastisement that Malfoys feared nothing._

_Draco had worn it every day since his father's imprisonment._

_At least Greyback seemed to keep a little more distance these days in the manor. ~~~_

_~~~ She hadn't wanted Draco to come home that summer, instead positing a stay on the continent. They both loved Paris in the summer. She'd known what would be waiting for him. What the Dark Lord would be planning after his father's failure._

_Draco hadn't listened. He knew too but didn't see any way around it. She'd even been driven so far as to suggest Dumbledore or Snape._

_But neither of them were safe choices for him. ~~~_

"What else is there?"

Draco blinked, turning to look at the box in his lap. He cautiously shuffled through the contents, laying out the Hand of Glory and what appeared to be his mother's favorite quill. It was the one she used to write all of her letters and notes to him.

He examined the box carefully. It had a false bottom he could see and no doubt was filled with shrunken trinkets and keepsakes she meant for his eyes only. Draco didn't look.

The last item in the box was one he'd seen very few times, and always with the promise that someday―far in the future―it would be his.

The key to the Malfoy vault in Gringotts.

"Oh Morgan…"

The keys to his freedom indeed.

"Don't," he hissed when Potter reached out to stroke the quill.

"Why not?"

"Why not? 'Why not,' he says. Because, you git, it is a portkey specially attuned to my magic and just might incinerate you all the way from your no doubt infected toes all the way to your bug-ridden hair." He sneered. "So you see, I touch it first. A nice little way of insuring you don't escape on your own and leave me to whatever fate I might meet."

"I wouldn't have left you, Malfoy," Potter stated, giving Draco a sneer of his own. "I'm a Gryffindor."

"Right. And good brave Gryffindors must never leave a man behind. Houseload of shirtlifters," Draco grumbled. "Don't know how Dumbledore put up with you lot."

Potter seemed to know a little of what Draco was thinking. He placed an unsteady hand on Draco's shoulder. "He meant it you know. When he offered you that second chance." 

_~~~ Cool wind buffeted him as soon as he stepped to the top of the stairs. Draco ignored it, wand clenched firmly in his right hand._

_He'd heard voices, someone talking, but now all was quiet. All but the howl of the wind around the tower. _

_"There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight."****_

_He could hear them, down below, fighting to get up to him. And Draco feared that more than he did killing Dumbledore. For them to see and carry stories of his failures back to the others._

_They spoke. Draco wouldn't really remember what about, just that the old wizard offered him sanctuary. Extended it to his mother even. And that, more than anything, he wanted to keep her safe. Protect her as she always had him._

_And then Dumbledore was falling over the battlements and out of sight, taking any possibility of safety with him. _

_Draco wanted to cry. A howl of rage welled up in his chest and threatened to explode. But it was only impotent fury, lost as easily as it came. And then he was running toward that which made him want to run away._

_He had failed._

_She would die. ~~~_

Draco looked up at Potter, knowing this was what his mother wanted and yet feeling his unforgotten anger clawing its way out of him. How could he leave her to this?

"Malfoy?"

He sighed. He had never refused her before. Thrown tantrums and held his breath until he was blue in the face, but in truth he had always caved to her wishes.

Draco put his treasures back inside the box, leaving the quill resting across his knee. He cradled the wooden box against his chest, tempted to prise up the bottom and see what his mother didn't want lost.

But there was no time, they had lingered too long and soon the others would come seeking him, wanting to watch as he played with his toy.

Draco grasped the quill firmly, lips moving hurriedly around the spell that would truly activate it.

His eyes blinked open to stare into green. "Touch the quill, Potter."

The dark haired teen wrapped his hand around the feathered instrument.

It was as though a hook had been placed behind Draco's navel. He felt it jerk and for one absolute moment he was very aware of his surroundings, and in the next…he had simply blinked out of existence.

* * *

* Totally stolen from LotR.  
** Pg 184 of the UK Edition of HBP. It's probably the same in the US version but I haven't a clue.  
*** Come on, Slytherins have to sort through their options before settling on the most beneficial.  
**** Pg 690 of the UK Edition of HBP


End file.
